


I Hear You Calling In The Dead Of Night

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Happy, Happy Ending, Husbands, Joyful, Love, M/M, Marriage, Sleepy Boys, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why won't Mycroft answer his phone?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hear You Calling In The Dead Of Night

**Author's Note:**

> *This is a 221b ficlet: 221 words, and the last word starts with B. :)  
> *All the characters belong to Hartswood/BBC. I just take them out to play dress up.  
> *The title comes from an amazing song called OVERJOYED by Bastille. Go listen!

The phone rang. And rang.

Greg fumbled for the clock on the bedside table and tried to make sense of the jumbled numbers. Two thirty a.m. 

“Mycroft!” he elbowed his sleeping lover. “Answer your fucking phone.”

 Greg rolled over and fell back asleep quickly. His ex-wife’d carped constantly over his ability to be immediately comatose. Could he help having great sleeping genes?

 Ring. **Ring**. _ **RING**_.

“Mycroft. How can you not hear that?” He pushed Mycroft’s calf with the flat of his icy foot and succeeded in waking him. “And whose _fucking_ idea was it to get a ringtone that sounds like a wailing baby?” Greg buried his head under the pillow to drown out the hour long work conversation Mycroft would have, about world peace or some crumbling government.

Mycroft pushed the blankets back roughly and left the room. Thank God the phone stopped. 

“Gregory! Please sit up. The nights this week are yours,” Mycroft stood next to him, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You cannot avoid it Gregory.” 

When he was finally awake, Greg smiled broadly at his new husband. So. Not a phone call, then. 

How could he have forgotten their beautiful newborn? Mycroft carefully slid the baby into Greg’s arms. With the warmed bottle, he held her close and fed her. Their daughter. Their Bella.


End file.
